Tie My Heart Gently
by jamie2109
Summary: Romance and love were nothing but fairy tales told to small children so that they grew up and had a reason to procreate. It didn’t really exist. A HarryDraco romance that shows that sometimes it is true love.


**Disclaimer: **Draco, Harry and Blaise are not my characters, neither is the world in which they live. All orgiinal characters are mine.

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**A/N: **Big thanks to my betas nocturnali and lusiology for knocking this into shape. Also a huge big thanks to cadillacaro for helping me with the Italian translation, which, as far as I know is an intended translation if not a literal one. "Lega Mio Amore" translates roughly to "Tie My Heart". 

I had planned on posting this in chapters, but if you readers are anything like me, you love to sit down and have a good read all in one hit. So, grab a coffee, tea or hot choccy, something delicious to nibble on and get ready for some unashamedly sweet romance thats not sickly sweet, but incredibly uplifting all the same. Also there is a warning for one sex scene that is a little graphic, however it is not crude. Please read at your discretion. 

I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your reactions to it. 

Jamie 

xxx

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Tie my heart gently

The bells of the far distant Muggle church were the only thing that broke Draco's peace, as he sat in his garden at the Manor, reading the latest edition of the _Sunday Prophet_. Not that he minded the bells; they heralded the time. 11 am every Sunday morning, the bells tolled as the faithful were released from another weekly sermon on how to live.

Draco thought he had some good advice in that regard, should anyone care to think of asking. His one piece of advice would be to have faith in yourself and only yourself. When you only have yourself to please, your own expectations to live up to, you don't disappoint anyone. Nor do they disappoint you.

This mantle had served him well since the end of the war. Voldemort had been defeated and Draco had lost both of his parents in the aftermath. Only the fact that he was still 17 when the war ended, and hiding from Voldemort after his failed mission, saved him from a similar fate. The Ministry had left him the Manor in which to live but confiscated all other Malfoy assets. Draco didn't mind, not any more; he'd prefer to not be weighed down by other people's possessions and history even if it was _his_ family's history and possessions, though he was grateful for his home.

The newspaper now folded and placed beside his morning tea tray for the house-elves to clear away, he stood and took a short stroll around his rose garden. It was always good to have a stretch after morning tea before he headed to his study to write letters and deal with business. The roses were laid out in neat orderly rows and took him precisely ten minutes to walk around if he didn't stop to smell them, and he didn't; he usually found that when they were in flower their scent filled the air and he had no need to.

In the three years since the war, Draco had steadily been exploring the parts of the manor to which his father had always refused him entry. Many of the artifacts he sold to museums but some of them he refused to touch and called the Ministry to deal with. In his spare time, he wrote articles on the pieces for the Historical Association that had sprung up to document all parts of the war in the hope that it never happened again.

An hour later, his letters were all written and a house-elf directed to owl them. A quick look at the latest piece he was writing an article on and then he would have a light luncheon, before doing some more research into the pedigree of it in the library.

"Pippy," he called. A tiny house-elf appeared and bowed respectfully.

"Yes, sir, Master Draco."

"It's such a lovely day, I think I will dine in the conservatory today. Please make sure that the doors are open to let in the fresh air."

"Yes, sir, Pippy will see to that immediately."

"Thank you." Draco nodded, and returned to the piece he was researching.

"Sir, may Pippy speak?"

Draco turned and looked at the house-elf. "What is it?"

"Master asked Pippy to remind him to purchase some more of the sleep potion today," the little house-elf said, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

"Ah, yes, thank you Pippy. I shall go directly after lunch. You may go, now."

After the elf left, Draco stopped looking at the box he was studying, and stared out of the window. Sleep had been a problem for Draco since his horrible sixth year at Hogwarts. He disliked taking a potion to assist him with sleep and he only did it when things became desperate. Partly it was because the potion made him feel lethargic the next day, but mostly it was because he detested having to rely on something other than himself.

Sighing with the inevitability of having to purchase some more potion, Draco turned his attention back to the box he was studying.

Called _'Lega Mio Amore'_ it was more a trap than anything else. Draco had found it amongst his mother's possessions when he went through them. It was quite a heavy box; rectangular and made of silver, with a hinged lid decorated by raised roses. At first Draco had thought it merely a jewelry box, and had added it to the collection of items to be sold. But reading his mother's diary a few days later, he had come across an entry that had made him head for the library.

_'Lega Mio Amore'_ was quite famous, according to his mother, yet he had been unable to find anything concrete about its history. Merely rumours and second hand accounts. The piece he was writing for the Historical Association would have to wait until he had discovered everything he needed to know. One of the collectors' journals would be a good start. He could write, requesting help from others.

Rumour had it that only one's true love could reach in and retrieve a perfect heart shaped ruby. Such a thing had never been seen, and few had tried, as the consequences for failure were said to be dire, although Draco had never been able to find mention of what they entailed no matter how hard he looked. Sentimental, romantic nonsense as far as Draco was concerned, however if he could find a full pedigree for the piece then it would fetch a stunning price.

At precisely 1pm lunch was served in the conservatory and Draco ate sparingly as was his habit. His food was superb, light and exquisitely presented; he had trained his house-elves well to his taste. When he was done he changed into traveling robes and stepped through the Floo to Diagon Alley.

If he'd had his choice he would frequent this place a lot less than he did. His house-elves did for him very well, but there were things that they just could not do, and purchasing this sleep potion was one of them, as Draco needed to sign for it each time. Other than that, he met his editors here on occasion and about once a month he met up with Blaise for coffee at one of the cafés that appeared to have sprung up since the war.

There were just too many people here for Draco to be comfortable. People seemed to like spending time socialising with each other again and there were always sappy couples sharing ice cream at Fortescue's, which was still called that in sentimental tribute, despite Florean being declared dead after he went missing at the start of the war. Laughing, happy children ran unsupervised around him, playing a chasing game, cheerfully apologising when they bumped into his legs, before running off giggling. There was even an assortment of street performers who sang or juggled, and mime artists who amused onlookers by following unsuspecting victims, mimicking, and of course exaggerating, their every movement. Even Knockturn Alley had lost most of its hidden dark character.

It was all as a result of the war, naturally. People were no longer afraid of being attacked by Death Eaters and there was a relaxed, casual, colourful atmosphere that made him feel a little disoriented. He knew it gave people the impression that he was a snob or standoffish, but it had the desired effect and nobody bothered him too much – except for the children.

He stepped into the dingy Apothecary, wrinkling his nose at the aroma as he headed down the narrow aisle to the counter. No matter how hard he tried not to breathe in too much of the fumes, he always left the shop with watery eyes, a rolling stomach and the cloying smell in the back of his throat that ensured he kept reliving the visit for hours after. While he still loved potion making, the combination of so many things all at once had an adverse effect on him, and he made sure Pippy knew to have a special blend of very strong coffee waiting for him when he arrived home, just to get rid of the smell from his nostrils.

He had just ordered his potion from the assistant, when he heard a familiar voice behind him. One that no matter how long it had been since he had seen the man, he would always recognise.

Potter.

"Malfoy."

Draco would rather run back to the Manor without his potion than talk to Harry Potter, but when he turned, it was to find that Potter was blocking the way out. Sighing, he nodded and wondered if he could get away with not saying a word. The man was unreasonably good looking, and every time he saw him, Draco felt like he was back in Hogwarts and eleven years old again. He didn't see him often, granted, but enough to unsettle Draco thoroughly, every single time.

Potter's eyes landed on the potion that the assistant placed on the counter and he obviously recognised it. He raised his eyes to the assistant and said "Same for me, thanks," before turning back to Draco. "You having trouble sleeping, too?"

"Obviously," Draco replied shortly, turning to sign for his potion, but feeling Potter's eyes boring into his back. When he was done, he handed the quill to Potter. Their hands brushed in the exchange and Draco flinched and jerked his hand away quickly. He avoided looking up, willing himself not to blush at his awkward reaction, instead paying great attention to settling his account.

"It's been a while, we should catch up sometime," Potter said, and Draco was so shocked he looked up into Potter's smiling eyes. What on earth was he talking about? He and Potter did not _catch up_. They did not socialise in the same circles, or know the same people, why would Potter want to talk to him? They had nothing in common. At all.

"No, I don't think so," he managed to get out, as he picked up his potion and made to move past Potter, expecting to be let through. No such luck; Potter didn't move. "Potter, I don't have all day," he said, irritated, just wanting to leave. Potter always managed to unnerve him.

"Why not?"

Draco frowned. "Why don't I have all day, or why don't I want to 'catch up'?" Draco answered, letting the irritation show.

"Why don't you want to catch up?"

"Because we have nothing to say to each other. We hate each other remember? Arch nemesis and all that?"

Potter chuckled at that. "I've had worse things to be worried about than you, Malfoy. I just thought that as the war was over and we're adults now, that it might be a good time to get past all that and at least be civil when we see each other."

Potter leaned forward to sign for his potion, which meant he was decidedly too close now, Draco thought, and so he took the opportunity to slip past him. "I don't see why that's necessary," he said, stiffly. "I can be civil. Good day, Potter."

Draco exited the shop quickly without waiting for an answer, and when he reached the street, he realised he'd been so distracted, his eyes had not watered and his stomach was fluttering instead of rolling with nausea. Walking swiftly towards the Leaky Cauldron and the Floo, Draco half expected Potter to come running after him. He'd have some choice words to say to him if he did. Potter had surprised him in there; it was no wonder he couldn't think of any scathing comments on the spot.

He was almost disappointed when he didn't.

Back at the Manor, Draco settled into the library to drink his coffee, anticipating the calming effect the caffeine usually had on him after a trip to buy the sleeping potion. The first sip made him look askance at the cup. It tasted different than the last time. Pippy was under very strict instructions as to how to prepare his coffee; she would no sooner change the blend than she would voluntarily accept clothes. So, what was different about it? After a moments thought, he realised he didn't have the customary smell of the Apothecary in his nose today. That would definitely affect the taste of his coffee. Sighing, he placed the cup back on the tray and looked around the library deciding that he may as well begin today's reading a little early.

An hour later he was immersed in _'So, you think you have an heirloom?'_ and had completely forgotten about Potter. It was only later that evening as he sat in his drawing room listening to _Pachelbel's_ Canon in D Minor, and his head cleared of the days research, that his thoughts returned to Potter and what he could have been after.

The times he had seen Potter since the war, he could have counted on one hand, though he knew what the one now called 'The Saviour' had been up to by following the stories in one of the newspapers. As much as he hated to admit it, Potter had surprised him and had demanded that he be left alone to live his life in peace after he defeated Voldemort. Of course the press ignored his demands when it could, and there were often stories about his personal life – who he was dating, receiving the Order of Merlin 1st class, bestowing medals on other war heroes too, as well as snippets of his work life. Harry Potter had become a Mediwizard and occasionally he would heal someone else famous, who, without fail, would thank him publicly for healing them.

So, why in heavens name did Potter want to catch up with him?

He very quickly realised that he had no clue and decided he was spending way too much time thinking about a five minute meeting with an insufferable man who deserved none of his time and certainly did not warrant affecting his enjoyment of the music he was currently listening to.

That said, he listened to the rest of the classical piece untroubled by thinking about Potter. When the last notes died away, he placed his empty glass on the table and headed to his suite to prepare for sleep. Pippy had ensured that the potion was on the table beside his bed and he drank it down before changing into his pyjamas and sliding between the sheets.

.o0o.

Over the next week, Draco spared little, if any, thought to Potter, totally pushing the meeting from his mind. His request for information on the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ box had been printed in the prestigious _'Artifactual Methods'_ and he had received a number of Owls with further information on its history. One of Pippy's duties was to receive all the mail Owls and deliver them to the library each morning and today there was a neat pile of perhaps a dozen scrolls stacked on his desk waiting for him.

Unfortunately, there was also another scroll that was decidedly less welcome. Draco picked it up checking the return address. Potter. He sighed. What did the man want now? For one brief moment he debated whether or not to open it but curiosity got the better of him and he knew that if he didn't find out what it said he'd be thinking about it all day and there was no way he was prepared to let Potter take up any more of his precious time than he already had.

Sliding his finger under the seal, he flicked it open. It was short; just one line.

_Draco,_

_Meet me for dinner tomorrow night?_

_Harry Potter _

Draco hissed in annoyance. No, he would not be meeting Potter for dinner tomorrow night, or any other night for that matter. He had half a mind to ignore it but there was the possibility that if he did, Potter would just keep hounding him until he had an answer. Irritated, he picked up a quill to reply.

_Potter,_

_No, I will not meet you for dinner tomorrow or any other night. Please take this as a direction not to contact me again._

_D Malfoy _

And that should be that, Draco nodded, satisfied he had dealt with Potter efficiently and effectively. He gave the reply to Pippy and directed her to send the Owl immediately.

He turned to the other scrolls on his desk and opened each one, stopping when he came to one that seemed to have some solid background information about the box.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_My name is Aubrey Truelove and my great grandfather was the original owner of the 'Lega Mio Amore' ._

_As you may be able to ascertain from my surname, my family has had a long tradition of finding their one true love with whom to spend their lives. After an unfortunate run of bad choices that almost decimated my family, great grandfather Theophilus Truelove commissioned a test; a way to establish if his intended had his heart and the safe keeping of it as their truest intention. Only if they did, would they be able to capture the ruby heart from the box._

_Due to the mistakes he had made in the past, he wanted the test to be meaningful and not one to be undertaken lightly. Therefore, failure had dire consequences. The piece was actually made using Dark Arts spells, so you can imagine that the consequences are not something that would wear off in a day or two._

_Failure resulted in a shattering of the intended's own heart - what the mediwitches call a heart attack these days. Rarely fatal, unless there is some pre-existing condition, however it is extremely dangerous._

_I do have papers verifying this that I will place at your disposal should you wish to view and perhaps copy them for your records, though I cannot let you have the originals, you understand. I can be reached at the address at the bottom of this letter._

_You mention in the article that you were also looking for a pedigree of ownership. That, I am afraid I cannot help you with. Once Theophilus had no more use for the box, he sold it to a dealer and we have no further information as to what happened to it after that. I would suggest, however, that you have probably come by this piece legally._

_Generally, once a dealer has these types of pieces, their history becomes lost; especially should it contain Dark Arts magic. My family is very grateful that this part of our history has come to light once more, and we would be willing to pay your price should you be inclined to sell._

_Hoping to hear from you,_

_Aubrey Truelove_

_Lovely Meadows_

_Chittering_

_Cambridgeshire _

At last, a real insight into the history of the box. It would have to be confirmed of course, but Draco felt the excitement building in him that always did when he was able to put all the pieces together factually. And he even had a buyer for the piece. And what a buyer. You could hardly be a potion maker in the Wizarding world and not have heard of _Truelove's Natural Remedies. _He would take Mr. Truelove up on his offer, once he had traced the dealer and all subsequent owners; he felt that because the box had belonged to his mother, he deserved to know it's full story. Frowning, he wondered if Lucius had attempted to…no, Lucius would never have been likely to risk himself in that manner. Besides, theirs had been an arranged marriage.

Draco put no faith in the item as a way to test your perfect partner, regardless of the type of magic used. Clichéd and hackneyed, it was probably about as effective as those love potions that the Weasley twins indulged a gullible public with. Romance and love were nothing but fairy tales told to small children so that they grew up and had a reason to procreate. It didn't really exist.

He called Pippy to him and drafted a reply, requesting a meeting as soon as possible at Malfoy Manor. Traveling to Cambridgeshire was out of the question; Draco did not travel unless there was an emergency.

.o0o.

Draco Apparated to Diagon Alley a few days later for his coffee date with Blaise. Floo travel usually left him feeling vaguely dirty and he always made sure to be impeccably attired when he met with Blaise.

Friendship was not something that sat comfortably with Draco. At Hogwarts, Crabbe and Goyle were more in the line of bodyguards than friends and, until his sixth year, he'd been the undisputed king of Slytherin, neither needing nor seeking out friendships. Slytherin didn't operate that way. Since the war, however, he and Blaise had struck up an odd friendship, more one of expediency than anything else. So many of their classmates had either perished during the war or left the country, heading for a neutral or safe place to live. Often Draco felt he and Blaise were the only two left that remembered being a Slytherin at a pre-war Hogwarts.

They'd met up again after the war at the very café they now had coffee in once a month. They both put aside time in their busy schedules for these appointments; Draco from his research and Blaise from his modeling career. The manager of the café had been informed that they did not wish to be interrupted and, indeed, they never had been. Once Blaise left the café, however, he was usually surrounded by hordes of fans.

So, when Draco turned the corner to see Blaise already seated at their outdoor table, laughing alongside a smiling Harry Potter, he did a double take. His eyes narrowed and he gave Blaise a glare that could wither the best of men but Blaise just returned an enigmatic shrug of the shoulders.

"Did I forget the time of our appointment, Blaise?" Draco asked icily, knowing full well that he had not.

Potter turned at Draco's voice and stood quickly, smiling and holding out his hand. "Draco, I was hoping you'd be here."

Draco ignored him and his hand, electing to fix his stare on Blaise. "I can always leave if you are otherwise occupied."

It was satisfying to see how Potter's face fell at being ignored but, Potter being Potter, continued. "I'm not staying, I was just hoping to catch up with you and ask if you wanted to have dinner tomorrow night."

Draco was incredulous and he turned his stare to Potter, instead. "Have you lost the ability to read, Potter? Or do you regularly ignore letters that categorically state I want nothing to do with you?"

Potter met Draco's stare with one of his own. "Give me one good reason why you won't have dinner with me?"

Draco leant forward, grabbing Potter's shirt in his fist and yanking him to within an inch of his face. He snarled, "Because I hate you. Isn't that enough?"

Potter looked at him, looked at his mouth, looked back into his eyes and then licked his lips and Draco's heart started thumping loudly in his ears, realising just how close they were standing. He could even feel Potter's light puffy breaths over his face. He made a disgusted sound and pushed Potter away, glancing around and noticing that many of the other patrons of the café were watching them with barely disguised interest.

"Just leave, and don't bother me again."

"I'll leave this time, Malfoy, but I will want a real answer. You hating me isn't enough anymore. We're supposed to be adults and the war is supposed to be over. I wanted to find out for myself what type of person you really are."

Potter gave Draco a long look and Draco turned away to find his seat at the table. "Blaise," he heard Potter say finally and the next time he looked up, Potter was gone.

"What was _he_ doing here?" Draco asked. He abstained from looking at Blaise and focused on his menu instead, even though he always had the same thing.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Blaise drawled, shaking his head. "When are you going to get over this unreasonable hatred? He's not that bad. For a Gryffindor."

The waiter approached the table and prevented Draco from answering; something that he was profoundly grateful for – for about a minute. As soon as they had ordered and the waiter scurried off, Blaise raised his eyebrow, "Well?"

"You know why I hate him."

"Tell me again."

"He refused my hand in first year, back in Hogwarts."

"Ancient history, you were both eleven years old."

"He got my father put into Azkaban when we were in fifth year."

"And you yourself agreed later that was a good thing. Besides, it wasn't his fault your father was at the Ministry that night and subsequently caught."

"He punched me."

"You broke his nose and paid him back for that."

"He almost killed me in sixth year!" Draco countered.

"Even you said that was an accident, and he had no idea what he was doing."

"Yes, exactly, he had no idea what he was doing and so should never have used that damned spell."

"Draco," Blaise interrupted. "You were attempting to Crucio him! I would have fought back with whatever I had, too. You can't blame him for that."

Draco pursed his lips. "Damn you Blaise, can't I just have this one thing to hate? I've reconciled every other thing in my life; losing my parents, losing my friends – alright losing Crabbe and Goyle - losing my family's place in Wizarding society, and losing my family's assets. Why can't I just be allowed to hate him?"

"I don't think you do hate him," Blaise said slowly. "You only think you hate him because you don't know how to like him. You don't know how to say thank you and you don't know how to be the one to admit you're wrong."

At this point the waiter arrived with their coffee, which gave Draco time to think on Blaise's words. No, Blaise was wrong. Draco _did_ hate Potter. There was nothing to thank him for and no reason at all to like him. None. Potter was irritating in the extreme and the last thing Draco needed was an irritation.

When the waiter left and Draco had picked up and sipped his coffee, he turned to Blaise and shook his head. "Think what you like but Potter is an annoying Gryffindor who gets quite enough attention from the rest of Wizarding society without capturing mine as well."

Blaise sipped his coffee, looking at Draco thoughtfully and, in between his own sips, Draco stared at him as if daring him to argue. Finally, Blaise put his cup down and rested his chin in his hands.

"You need to get out more. You hide yourself away from everyone and you never let anyone in. Now, I understand why you do it, I do, but aren't you ever lonely? I mean, you see me once a month and who else do you see?"

Oh, now this was getting personal. It was going to be one of those 'poor Draco' speeches where Blaise decided that Draco's life was worthless and that he could not live a healthy, happy life unless he had someone to share it with. Which was totally ridiculous of course. Preposterous. Draco was quite happy, thank you very much. What made Blaise an expert on life anyway? He was a model for fuck's sake. He lived out of a suitcase, albeit a very expensive suitcase, and had a different woman in his bed each night. He was hardly the poster boy for a committed monogamous relationship.

"Don't even go there, Blaise," Draco warned. "I see other people. Just because I don't have a different person in my bed every night doesn't mean that I am not perfectly happy."

"Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove that you see other people. Have dinner with Potter."

"I will not. Now change the subject," Draco said frowning. He thought they'd gone past Potter; he had no wish to revisit that discussion.

Blaise sighed and muttered "Coward," before taking another sip of his coffee and doing what he was asked. "How's your research going?"

At last, Draco thought, safe ground. He smiled. "I received an owl the other day giving me quite a detailed history of the piece. Seems like most of those rumours were true. A man who was sick of making mistakes in his love life commissioned it to determine if his intended was his one true love."

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea," Blaise replied when Draco finished relating all the information he had on the piece.

"What doesn't?"

"Well, you'd know if it were true love then, wouldn't you?" Was there a hint of sorrow around Blaise's eyes when he said that?

"You know I don't believe in that, Blaise, and even if I did, relying on magic to determine that is irresponsible." Draco replied, though he was distracted. "Is something wrong? You looked sad there for a moment."

Blaise shook his head. "It's nothing." Draco just raised an eyebrow.

"I know you too well to let you get away with that. Tell."

Blaise ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm just getting sick of the meaningless trysts with all the different girls. It's getting to the stage where I don't even remember their names anymore. It's nothing; a physical release and, damn it Draco, it's lonely."

"I thought that's what you liked. You never wanted to settle down before. What changed?" Draco asked.

"I met someone I can't have. She's tied to a husband she doesn't love but can't leave."

"Being married has never stopped you before," Draco pointed out.

"No, but I wasn't in love with them. This is different. I have to respect her decision, don't I? If I love her I have to respect her previous ties."

Draco had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

Blaise looked at him, the anguish plain to see on his face now he'd disclosed his secret. "You know what makes it all so much lonelier? The absence of intimacy. I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about a simple kiss or hug; just a touch that means more than 'get your clothes off and fuck me'." Blaise's hand reached over and covered Draco's. "When was the last time anyone hugged you, Draco? When was the last time that you touched someone else?"

If Draco couldn't see just how serious Blaise was, he'd have dragged his hand away. And if Blaise hadn't just admitted that he was in love with a woman, Draco would have asked him if he was coming on to him but, as it was, this was a whole new phase of their friendship and Draco wasn't sure he was comfortable with it. But…Blaise was his only friend and didn't that mean something? Blaise was the only one who put up with him, Blaise was the one who listened to him when he got all involved in an artifact he was researching. And Blaise was the one who knew him better than anyone.

"I don't remember," he answered quietly, admission settling uneasily in his chest.

"Don't you ever miss that?"

All Draco could do was shrug; he hardly remembered the last time he had hugged anyone. Certainly his mother was probably the last one; he didn't invite people to touch him, normally. She'd always been the exception. Then there was Pansy at school and Duncan before the end of the war, when he was living in fear of retaliation from the Dark Lord for failing to kill Dumbledore. But they hardly counted; it had been a clingy, prickly Pansy who thought her future as Mrs. Draco Malfoy was secure; and a lusty Duncan who was more concerned with getting his hands on Draco's cock or his lips around it than kissing him.

"Do me a favour, Draco?" Blaise asked, solemnly.

"What?"

"You're single, Harry is single and he's obviously interested. Don't throw that away because you don't know what to do. Go out for dinner with him. Just once."

Oh no… Draco shook his head, "I don't think I can do that." No, that would mean that he would have to speak to Potter and look at him and put up with his messy hair, his retarded glasses and his holier than thou attitude. It would make him vulnerable and he couldn't do that. No. There was no way known.

"It's just dinner. No strings, no riding off into the sunset together. Just dinner. You owe it to yourself to do it." Draco was still shaking his head as Blaise continued. "Besides, I'm not going to be available next month; I have a shoot in Thailand and won't be able to make it back. I don't want to think of you here with no one. Do it for me, will you?"

"I don't need anyone looking out for me," Draco protested.

"Alright, alright, but for me?"

Draco still shook his head. "Just because you're in love doesn't mean you have to set everyone else up, too. It's not worked so well for you, has it? You're all heartbroken, which is one of the reasons I don't believe in love. Some of us are happy to have nothing to do with relationships."

"Draco…" Blaise looked at him with pleading eyes. Why did he have to have the mournful brown eyes of a kicked puppy? "You've been obsessed with Harry ever since our first year and yet you never got to know him properly. You assumed a lot about him, just as he did about you. He's willing to overcome those assumptions to find out who you really are, why can't you do the same?"

Draco's eyes narrowed, suspiciously. "Just how long was he here talking with you before I arrived, anyway?"

"Not long. Now, come on, say you'll do it. You never know, you might enjoy yourself."

Giving a huge sigh, Draco finally agreed. "I'm going to blame you if Potter and I end up killing each other. You know this, right?"

When Blaise smiled in triumph and removed his hand, the missing warmth saddened him.

.o0o.

It took only an hour for Draco's owl to return with Potter's reply, agreeing to have dinner with him the following evening. Draco had been specific, though; he expected Potter to come to the Manor and collect him; none of this casual meeting up at a designated place, no, Potter would do the civilised thing and appear at the Manor at 7pm. Potter had agreed and advised Draco to dress casually.

Which was why Draco was standing in his boxers in front of an open wardrobe surveying his collection of casual clothes. There was a small knot of tension in his stomach; but he was sure it wasn't anticipation; more worry that he was removing himself from his comfort zone and spending an entire evening in the company of someone he disliked intensely. Blaise really had a lot to answer for, and Draco had fired off two owls this morning telling him exactly what he thought of him.

After much deliberation, he decided on dressing entirely in black. Black trousers, shirt, tie and jacket, and be damned if he cared. He snorted at his mirror when it whistled at him, and he almost changed; he wasn't dressing to impress Potter after all. But then, he liked the cut of this jacket and all black went with his colouring superbly, so he left it. He gave some final attention to his hair and then looked at himself critically in the mirror. Gorgeous, as always. He was under no illusions on that score.

Pippy appeared at that moment, and announced that Potter was here and waiting in the drawing room. Right then; it was time. Why was he doing this, again, he asked himself, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before he noticed in the mirror that it made his lip look swollen and pouty. Oh, for Christ's sake! He rolled his eyes and went downstairs to greet the bloody Saviour, irritated at himself.

"Potter," he said, as he entered the room and saw him standing at the window gazing out into the garden. At his voice, Potter turned and smiled, eyes appreciating the way Draco was dressed.

"Draco. You look terrific," he responded, and moved forward, hand extended for Draco to shake.

Draco smirked at the compliment, then stared down at the extended hand, wondering if he could get away with not taking it again. Doubtful. He took it reluctantly, briefly, and privately gasped at the warmth that passed between their palms. It startled him so much that he reflexively squeezed Harry's hand momentarily, before pulling free, flustered now by his uncharacteristic response.

"I suppose I should pay you a similar compliment but you might take that to mean I noticed what you looked like," Draco replied, cool mask still in place, thank God, because Potter really did look good. He cleaned up pretty well.

Potter just grinned. "You always notice me, Draco. Are you ready to go?"

Draco still hated him.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Well, I thought for our first date, it should be –"

"This is _not_ a date, Potter," Draco stressed. "Get that into your head. You harassed me until I agreed to dinner, but this is not a date."

Potter gave Draco that infuriating little grin again; the one that said he knew better, but was humouring him anyway. "Whatever, Draco. I thought we could go to one of my favourite restaurants."

"Right. I'm overdressed then, I imagine." No one said Draco had to be nice and Potter was dressed very casually in jeans and shirt, open at the collar.

Potter ignored the barb, and replied. "No, you're good. You ready then?"

"Yes I'm ready," Draco replied. "How are we getting there?"

"Come outside," Potter said, grinning. "I have a surprise."

Why did he have a bad feeling about this? Draco followed Potter out of the drawing room, down the hall and through the front doors to see a Muggle car parked in the driveway. A car without a roof!

"You cannot possibly expect me to travel in _that_, " Draco spluttered.

"Why not?" Potter asked, looking at him.

"It may have escaped your notice, Potter, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest, but that car has no roof."

"That's how it's supposed to be. It's a warm night; I thought we could drive with the roof down and enjoy the fresh air."

Hopeless, that's what Potter was. Totally hopeless. If Draco traveled in an open topped car his hair would be blown around so much in the wind that it would stand on end all over his head and make him look like a hedgehog. Surely Potter knew…Draco looked at Potter and realised that of course he wouldn't know; his hair always looked like he'd just been thoroughly shagged. And why did he care about keeping his hair neat for Potter anyway? Perhaps seeing him looking like he'd just received a fright might make Potter go away.

He'd known that having dinner with Potter was a bad idea. Damn Blaise.

"Fine," he huffed and sat in the passenger seat. It would be quite a nice car if it had a roof, Draco grudgingly allowed; comfortable leather interior and plenty of leg room. But it had no roof and it came with Potter.

"Great," Potter grinned. He jumped into the driver's seat beside Draco, started the engine and took off down the driveway in a spray of gravel, leaving Draco to shriek and hang on to the arm rest for dear life. This really was a terrible idea; Potter was going to be a reckless driver, which he should have known to expect, and Draco was going to be killed. His short life was going to end wrapped around a tree - he just knew it.

At a safer speed, perhaps with a hat to cover his head, Draco could admit that it might be a nice drive, but barreling down the road at breakneck speed was not Draco's idea of fun and it had him on the edge of his seat with his heart in his mouth for fear they would run off the road and hit a fence. Potter might be a capable driver but that didn't stop Draco being afraid for his life. And telling him to slow down made no difference, Potter just laughed and told him he was being an old man.

But then, and Draco was sure it was deliberate, perhaps in order to shut him up, Potter took a left turn suddenly and too fast, and Draco was unable to hang on. He was flung violently across the car and ended up sprawled across Potter's lap, his arms getting tangled with Potter's arms and the steering wheel, and the car swerving dangerously from side to side. He struggled to right himself but the swerving car did nothing to help, only made things worse as it swung again and made him fall in an undignified heap in Potter's lap once more.

There was a surprised squeak from Potter as he tried righting the car and Draco found to his total humiliation that his hand was in Potter's groin. Fuck.

"Potter, you utter imbecile! Stop this car now! Are you trying to get us killed?"

"I'm trying." His voice was shaky. Good.

Luckily the car righted itself and Draco extricated himself from the embarrassing position he was in. He was furious. Potter could have killed them both! Not to mention that the palm of his hand was now tingling with a warmth that was alarmingly nice.

No it wasn't. It was just alarming.

"Sorry about that but your hand on my dick was a bit distracting. You could have waited until the car slowed down, you know," Potter joked.

Really! The man was insufferable. No, this was such a bad idea and he couldn't do it. Fine, he would admit to Blaise that he was socially retarded; hell, he would admit anything at this point, as long as he could get out of this car and away from Potter. But Potter didn't look as if he were going to stop the car any time soon and Draco just looked at him, breathing hard in his anger and anxiety. No, he was going home, _right now_.

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and Apparated back into his drawing room at the Manor.

.o0o.

When he opened his eyes and found himself back home, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He never should have agreed to dinner, it had been a total waste of time. He was much better here on his own.

Draco looked down at his hands; they were shaking and he wasn't sure if it were fear or shock or anger or a mix of everything. He felt raw inside, feeling as if something had ripped aside his attempt at normalcy and left him floundering in embarrassment at his failure.

It also reminded him of just where one of those hands had been only a few minutes ago.

He was not going to think about that; he needed a drink and to forget that this evening had ever happened.

And hope that he never saw Potter again.

He wasn't that lucky.

Not five minutes later, he heard the roar of an angry engine skidding to a stop outside his door and he downed the last of his fire whiskey, tempted to refuse to speak to Potter.

In the end he didn't get the chance to decide, as Potter just stormed right in; opened the door himself and walked in as if he owned the place.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he yelled at Draco. "You scared me almost half to death!"

"You almost ran off the road when I was in the damned car, Potter. I'd had enough. You didn't look like you were going to slow down, and I do not appreciate being flung around like a rag doll, thank you," Draco yelled back.

"Christ I was only having a bit of fun. It's fun tearing down the road at impossible speeds and flinging the car round the corners. Don't you pure bloods ever have that sort of fun?"

Potter was up close and yelling in his face now, and Draco, who steadfastly refused to back away, could see the flecks of hazel in his green eyes.

He looked away, but unfortunately only made it as far as Potter's lips, which were stupidly pink and slightly chapped, probably from the wind in the car. But it made him lick his own and Potter exhaled deeply when Draco looked up and saw that Potter had caught him.

Draco scowled and blushed and hadn't forgotten their argument at all.

"That was not fun, that was life threatening and while you may not have any regard for your life, I've been through too much shit to throw mine away," Draco replied, the anger muted by the frantic thumping his heart was doing and the quickened breaths he was forced to take as he watched Potter lick his own lips. In slow motion. Dragging his pink tongue across the chapped skin. Fuck.

"Do you think for one minute that I would have risked my life out there? Risked _your_ life? Draco, I discovered an excellent cushioning charm and adapted a sticking charm. The car could not have left the road and if something got in our way, we would have been cushioned against the impact."

Potter's voice had become soft and the retort that rose to Draco's lips was lost in his endeavor to drag his eyes away from Potter's mouth.

Oh…

God, he was so close Draco could smell his breath, feel eddies of warmth brushing across his cheeks and it was too close, too _close_ , just _too damned close_ and he had to move. If he didn't he would panic; was already beginning to panic as he stood there just looking at Potter's mouth, feeling Potter's breath and listening to his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He felt trapped. He had to find something to say, an escape.

He must have looked like a caged wild animal because Potter stepped back and it broke the spell. Draco was too relieved to interpret the look on Potter's face; it was probably pity though. God, he thought, if Potter pitied him he must be pathetic. He needed another drink.

Stepping around Potter, he headed to the table and poured himself another fire whiskey. "Drink?" he asked.

"Please."

"You need cushioning charms inside the car, you know. It was still no fun being thrown around like that," Draco said.

"I don't know, I quite liked having you in my lap," Potter replied, a smile on his face.

Shaking his head and cursing the pale skin that coloured so easily, Draco bristled. "Well I found it extremely uncomfortable. We were supposed to be having dinner, that's all I agreed to, not a…" He stopped, horrified. He had been going to say, 'not a quick grope in the front seat of a car.'

"Why did you agree to have dinner with me?"

"Blaise made me," Draco said, bluntly. "Why did you ask me?"

"I already told you that yesterday. I wanted to get to know you. I've seen some of the work you've been doing for the Historical Association and I was impressed. As you probably know, Sirius left me his house and that place is full of old things that even I won't go near. We cleaned out a lot of them years ago, but…" He stopped and shrugged, giving Draco an appraising look that made his toes tingle. "Plus, you're more than easy on the eye and I wanted the chance to get past the way we were at Hogwarts."

Draco inhaled deeply, as much in an attempt to rid his stomach of the sudden flock of butterflies that had taken flight in there, as to give him time to think of something to say. Potter seemed to drain all his intelligent responses.

"Pippy," he called, not taking his eyes off Potter. "Mr. Potter will be joining me for dinner," he told her when she appeared.

The small elf nodded. "Yes, Master. Pippy will see to it immediately."

"Thank you. We'll be ready to eat in ten minutes."

"Certainly sir," the elf replied, and disappeared.

"If you still want dinner, we'll eat here," Draco said, finding that taking control of the situation was settling him a little. Now if he could just drag his eyes away from Potter's he was sure that those butterflies would drop dead and he'd be able to think of something interesting to say.

Potter nodded. "I'm happy with that. It's nice here, much nicer than my place."

"Of course it is," Draco said. "I remember Black's house. My mother took me there often when I was younger. It was a horrid, dark house."

"And it's not improved much since then I'd wager. Sirius always hated it, so he shied away from doing much to it. And then…" Potter frowned, "he wasn't there for too long, anyway."

Draco just nodded. He didn't want to hear Potter's sob story about his godfather. It was common knowledge now, anyway. He wouldn't mind having a look at some of the artifacts in that house, though. From what he remembered there had been some really interesting pieces.

He motioned Potter to sit, and took a seat himself, much more relaxed now that the tense atmosphere had abated, and he could fall back on good manners and being the perfect host.

"Perhaps you could let me have a look at some of the things in your house, then."

Potter agreed enthusiastically, and by the time Pippy announced dinner, Draco was actually enjoying their conversation.

They ate in Draco's formal dining room, which also helped Draco to retain a veneer of cool distance. He could play the gracious host, making polite, yet friendly conversation.

Two hours later, they took their drinks to the patio and sat comfortably in the cool night air. Which, upon reflection might have been a bad idea, Draco realised, as Potter obviously thought that the darkness invited confidences.

"I'm really glad Blaise made you accept my invitation, Draco. If I'd known you like this back at Hogwarts, things would have been a lot different than they were," Potter said, sipping his drink and looking directly at Draco.

"I might still have hated you, though," Draco replied, raising an eyebrow. See? He could do this; be unaffected by Potter's obvious interest. "Besides, I'm not that person, now anyway."

"No?"

Draco shook his head, and looked down at his drink. "Too many things happened to me since I left Hogwarts _that_ night. If I were the same person, I'd be dead by now."

"I think it changed us all, the war. How can it not have? I know most of the facts about what happened from your trial; it must have been really hard to deal with."

Draco just shrugged; he didn't want to talk about it. Not now, and not with Potter. Living through the nightmare of his time with the Dark Lord was bad enough without having to revisit it. Everything he'd ever known about himself, his family and his place in society had been swept from under him during the war. Lies and betrayal and fear had become the creed by which he lived, desperate just to survive. And he had. It had changed him though, made him distrustful of almost everyone, made him determined that he would never again place his faith in anything, would never tie himself to any ideology.

"It must have changed you, too," he finally answered.

Potter nodded. "It did. I lost too many people I loved, people I never had the chance to tell. When Ron died, I…I lost it there for a while. He was my best friend and I just didn't have the knowledge to save him. That's why I became a Mediwizard, saving lives instead of causing deaths."

That seemed to stifle conversation for a while, Draco remembering reading about how the Weasel died from poisoning of some sort. He spared a momentary shameful thought to the time he'd almost killed him with poison at Hogwarts, before he took a sip from his drink and looked at Potter. Perhaps hate was too strong a feeling, after all. Even intense dislike didn't sit well with him anymore.

Potter finished his drink in silence and then stood. "I guess I should get going," he said, and Draco could hear the faint hint of regret in his voice.

"I'll show you out then," he replied, and stood, walking inside through to the front door, and expecting Potter to follow him.

When he saw how Potter had parked the car, almost diagonally across the driveway, he smirked. "I think you need driving lessons, Potter," he said.

"Hey, I was angry and in a hurry," he laughed. It was a nice laugh, actually. "I am sorry that I scared you, by the way. I had no idea you wouldn't realise I had used magic on the car."

"Yes, well…" Draco looked away, feeling more than a little foolish at that.

"I'm glad I chased after you, though. I had a nice time."

Potter stuck his hand out and Draco took it, nodding. "It could have been worse, I suppose." But the corner of his lip was upturned into the beginnings of a smile.

Potter laughed again and leant in, placing the gentlest of kisses on the upturned corner of Draco's mouth. He was so shocked that he couldn't even move for a moment. Potter _kissed_ him? "Yeah, you could have thrown me out," Potter whispered. "Thank you, Draco, I'll see you soon."

He gave a quick squeeze of Draco's hand and let go. Before Draco could even say a word, Potter had jumped in his car and was off in a hail of stones.

"Well," he breathed, raising his fingers to rub over the place Potter's lips had been as he watched the car disappear.

.o0o.

Potter was as good as his word and over the next few weeks had turned up at Draco's numerous times. The visits were not planned, which initially irritated Draco, who thought that he should have shown some manners and either waited until he was invited, or organised a time to meet. But as Potter always rang the front door bell and waited for Pippy to show him in, it gave him the option of refusing him entry if he just didn't want to see him.

In that time, Draco had explained to Potter about some of the work he'd been doing and he'd taken Potter on a tour of the Manor. Potter had chuckled over the secret room where Draco's father had stored many of his illegal potions, artifacts and Dark objects, saying that they'd known about it, but had never been able to find it. Often they sat in the garden and talked, Draco haltingly at first, unsure of just why Potter was interested but, as the days wore on, he slowly relaxed.

Potter never suggested that they go anywhere in his car again, and Draco was thankful for that; he felt he could deal much better with Potter and this absurd attraction Draco had developed for him, if he were here on his own territory.

Potter had also refrained from taking things any further than a soft brush of his lips across Draco's when saying goodbye. Stupidly, it made Draco's heart race. Just that tiny affectionate gesture left him standing there staring dumbly after Potter as he left. Every time. He began to think that Blaise might have been onto something after all. He had also begun to think of Potter as Harry.

They'd made arrangements for Draco to visit 12 Grimmauld Place in a couple of days but Aubrey Truelove responded to Draco's Owl, asking if it were possible for Draco to visit him instead, as he was wary of letting the documents out of his house in case anything happened to them. With great trepidation and, with Harry's encouragement reminding him that he'd wanted to find the history in tribute to his mother, he had agreed and was packing for a short stay. Aubrey had suggested he stay and spend a few days getting to know his family to satisfy himself that the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ was coming home into safe hands. Draco wasn't that concerned about the piece but, as Aubrey had sounded so sincere, he agreed.

Packed and ready to leave, he was giving Pippy last minute instructions when he heard what could only be Harry's car roaring up the driveway. Draco was very curious as to just why his insides smiled but he composed his features and went out to meet Harry.

As usual, Harry bounded out of the car, full of energy and that daft grin on his face, and Draco was hard pressed not to give him a giddy smile in return.

"I'm glad I caught you," Harry said, smiling.

"Only just," Draco responded, giving in and letting a small smile curve his lips. He leant on the doorframe and crossed his arms. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have a job or something important like that?"

"On my lunch break," Harry beamed. "Just wanted to say that I hope you have a good trip, that's all."

Harry grabbed one of Draco's wrists and pulled him into a hug. Draco froze, awkward in this unfamiliar position. It was all wrong; there were hard angles and bits that bumped where there should have been a smooth fit. Then Draco shifted in an attempt to step back and everything changed. Suddenly all those places that had seemed wrong before, melded and it was like sliding home into a safe secure place where all his curves matched all the curves on Harry. It made him catch his breath with the difference and his arms rose to wrap round Harry's waist as he relaxed into his chest. He hardly knew what he was doing but it didn't matter. All he knew was that he was being hugged and it was heaven.

"And I wanted to tell you that I'll miss you," Harry whispered against his neck, making Draco shiver.

Harry couldn't know that he'd never been held like this before – the simple affectionate caring was threatening to undo him and he felt a lump forming in his throat, so he just nodded, trying to breathe around it.

After a while, not nearly long enough in Draco's opinion, Harry pulled away to look at him. He wore an odd expression; like he was confused at the emotions on Draco's face. Harry must think him a total sap, Draco thought, and he fought to regain his usual cool attitude. "See you in a few days then?" he asked, glad that there was no tremor in his voice.

Harry nodded and stepped away completely. He waved as he jumped in the car and drove off, leaving Draco standing there once more, staring dumbly after him.

Bloody hell, he fancied Harry Potter. _Like mad._

.o0o.

Chittering was an eye opener.

Draco arrived at Lovely Meadows barely an hour later, to Aubrey's wide smile and firm handshake. He was a small, round man of perhaps fifty years of age, and almost as wide as he was tall. He had one of those faces that displayed every emotion. Either that or he was a very good actor. He greeted Draco like he was a long lost relative and proudly introduced him to his wife, Ruth. Two more different people you could not hope to meet. Ruth was tall, slender and extremely elegant, and Draco thought she would have felt at home in the Manor. Her smile lit her face with an ethereal beauty, her welcome was warm and the tender way she looked at Aubrey indicated that she was very much in love with her husband.

"We are so pleased that you could come and visit us, Draco," she said, extending her hand. "Aubrey was extremely excited when he saw your article in the collectors' magazine."

"It is my pleasure, I assure you. Thank you for inviting me." Draco took her hand and bowed over it, respectfully.

"Come, Draco, I will show you to your room where you can freshen up. Then, you must brave meeting the children," Aubrey said in all seriousness, but his eyes were laughing.

"Aubrey, don't scare the young man off, dear, he's only just arrived."

Draco heard the affection in her voice and saw the loving looks that passed between them and wondered if it was all an act. He'd certainly never seen people act like this before. The only thing that came close, he remembered, was Pansy reading him passages from some rubbish Muggle romance novel.

After being shown his room, which was extremely cosy, if not the opulence he was used to at the Manor, Draco freshened up in the adjoining bathroom. His bag had been placed on his bed, but he didn't unpack. Instead, he elected to look out of the window for a while, casting his eyes over the well kept lawns and gardens, down to a lake lined with reeds and ringed by clusters of willows trailing their branches in the water. It was a beautiful, peaceful, rural scene. Lovely Meadows, indeed.

He changed into casual robes and headed back down stairs to find Aubrey and Ruth and to meet those children. He didn't do well around children; never had. But he supposed if he had to meet these Trueloves then he may as well be gracious about it.

When he entered the drawing room, he saw his two hosts sitting together on a couch, speaking softly to one another. He stopped in the doorway, unobserved for the moment; just studying them and the way they spoke to each other, looked at each other and listened. Luckily he was unable to hear what they were speaking about; he didn't think being caught eavesdropping on a private conversation would give them a good impression of him but he noticed that they were holding hands, Aubrey's large blunt fingers almost making Ruth's small hand disappear. How comfortable with each other they looked. Was this what love was supposed to look like?

He gave a soft cough to alert them to his presence and entered the room, smiling.

Aubrey stood and greeted him. "Draco, would you like a cup of tea?"

Draco would have preferred coffee, but as it wasn't offered, the tea would do nicely. "Thank you, that would be lovely," he replied, as he sat opposite them.

"I hope the bedroom is to your satisfaction," Ruth said, smiling, as Aubrey left the room. Draco assumed that he was making tea. If Aubrey was making tea, it indicated that there were no house-elves here and Draco wondered how they managed to keep up the place, especially with children running around.

"It's charming, thank you," nodded Draco.

"Good, I am glad," Ruth nodded. "We both wish your stay with us to be comfortable so, if there is anything you need, please let us know."

"I will," he replied, looking up as Aubrey came back into the room carrying a tea tray.

Ruth sat forward to pour the tea and Draco was pleased to see that they took their tea in the traditional manner, with milk and no sugar, just as he did. He accepted his gratefully, and sipped it. "So, when do I meet these children?" he smiled at them.

"Aubrey will call them in when we are finished with tea," Ruth replied. "They are a bit boisterous around strangers. Tell us about the _'Lega Mio Amore' _in the meantime, if you wouldn't mind."

"Yes, please do," Aubrey added. "My great grandfather's notes don't include pictures of it."

"There isn't a lot more I can tell you about it other than what was in the magazine," Draco answered. "The box is not large, perhaps five or six inches by eight inches and about three inches deep. The raised roses on the lid are exquisite; Theophilus obviously meant it to be an incredibly beautiful piece of art as well as functional. I've been looking into my parent's papers for records of the purchase and it seems my father purchased it from another collector, Hector Humphries. I'm in the process now of tracing it back from there. When I get the name of the dealer that Theophilus sold it to, I will be able to trace it from both ends," he said smiling, the words coming easily now he was on a topic that he understood.

"And did your mother mention if the box had been used at any time?" Aubrey asked, his face lit with interest.

Draco shook his head. "No, I think by the time it made its way into my mother's hands, its history had been lost or corrupted with rumour and, as such, no one was really prepared to test it out – just in case. My father would have coveted it for its supposed power and I'm surprised that he didn't trace its origins himself. My mother though," Draco's face softened, "she would have just appreciated it for it's beauty and was only mildly interested in its purpose."

"She is the reason you want to know about the box, yes?" Ruth asked, kindly.

"Yes," he said. "I don't know why, as she was not really interested in the purpose of the box – or perhaps she was intrigued by the romance associated with it…" Draco stopped there and drank his tea, silenced by the sudden thought of his mother's motives. He really did not want to explore those – he hadn't finished reading her diaries yet and there seemed to be a whole side of her that he just never knew.

"It is a romantic item in its own way, yes, but including a punishment with Dark magic adds a sinister tone to it, I think," Aubrey said. When Draco looked at him, he added. "Oh, yes, I was excited to see it surface, but will be happy to see it back where it belongs. Besides," he said taking Ruth's hand again, "one shouldn't need that to find one's true love. We didn't, did we, love?"

"No, my dear, we did not. Now before we bore young Draco to tears, let us introduce him to the children."

"Aeros! Demos!" Aubrey called loudly, and Draco was confused. The call was more in the form of a command than the way he'd expected a loving parent to call for their children.

He almost laughed out loud when two gigantic dogs came bounding in through the open French doors, tails wagging and tongues lolling, dripping copious amounts of drool that sprayed everywhere as they ran. The two monsters headed right for Aubrey, who held up a hand when they drew near and the two dogs stopped and sat obediently, panting, their tails still wagging.

"These are our children," Aubrey laughed, seeing the look on Draco's face. "This is Aeros," he said patting an almost white dog, which nuzzled Aubrey's hand. "He's our eldest."

Draco reached out tentatively to pat the dog, letting it sniff his hand and assess the danger first. "Hello, boy." Dogs he could handle, he grinned as Aeros licked and snuffled at his hand.

He did the same with Demos when he was introduced as well. After a few more moments Aubrey waved the dogs outside again and followed after them, saying he was going to check that they had enough water. Ruth turned to him, a serene smile on her face.

"You were surprised that we regard our dogs as our children?"

"A little," Draco replied. "No, not really, I just assumed when you said children, you meant human children, with runny noses and smelly nappies," he said smiling at her.

Her face closed down a little then and she turned to look outside where Aubrey's voice could now be heard growling playfully with his dogs. Draco could see him wrestling with them both on the grass. He smiled; he would have given anything as a child to have a pet like that. One that he could have treated as a friend and played with in so carefree a manner.

"We can't have children," Ruth's quiet voice came from beside him.

He would have liked to ask why, but it was a private matter and Draco was still a stranger, no matter how welcome they had made him feel. So, he just nodded, but Ruth continued.

"I am unable to bear them. My mother took a potion to help with the morning sickness while she was expecting me and it affected my reproductive organs. I never ever thought that I would get married, be able to enjoy the wonder that is a close, intimate relationship with anyone. But," she sighed happily; "Aubrey came along and loved me despite desperately wanting to continue his family line."

Draco looked sideways at her, and she was looking with glowing pride at Aubrey playing with the dogs.

"He's never resented me for not being able to give him an heir, rather told me that I was more important to him than a name. He gave me back a reason to live and I will love him until the end of my days."

Ruth tilted her head and looked at Draco. "Do you have someone special in your life?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I don't." He refrained from telling her that he didn't believe in love or relationships; that was personal. And he didn't tell her about Harry, because he had no idea _what_ that was.

"Well, you are young yet and I am sure the right girl is out there waiting for you," she smiled at him, before turning back to watch Aubrey with softening eyes.

"Man, actually," Draco said before he could stop himself.

Ruth angled her head in acknowledgment. "Man, then. I hope you find one as good as Aubrey."

Demos bowled Aubrey over completely then and he went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and both Ruth and Draco laughed. Draco was glad; the subject had started to trouble him.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent chatting and getting to know each other better. Aubrey ran Lovely Meadows as an herb farm. He grew many of the herbs and plants needed for medicinal potions and was experimenting with many new variations on complicated potions that would make it easier for healers like Harry. The Truelove name was already renowned and respected for its contributions, and Draco thought that Harry and Aubrey would get along like a house on fire. He made Aubrey promise to show him around his laboratory the next day, smiling when Aubrey's face lit up in delight. He wished Harry were here.

Draco went to bed with Aubrey's happy smile and Ruth's quiet strength on his mind, and lay awake long into the night as he was traveling without the sleep potion. The lethargy he experienced, as an after effect, was too big a price to pay while he was visiting, as it often made him bad tempered and Aubrey and Ruth had been too nice and gracious for him to repay them with bad manners.

He was intrigued with their relationship. It was clearly, transparently evident they both adored each other. There was an open naturalness to them both in the way they connected that made Draco wistful in a way. It was something he would have liked for himself – the type of relationship he had once seen himself in - when he was a child and still believed in people.

Perhaps there was such a thing for some - he'd seen the evidence - but it wasn't for him.

He got up, unable to sleep, and opened the window, letting the cool night air caress his face. Carried in on the breeze was the most profound sigh of such contentment that Draco was almost embarrassed to hear it, feeling like a voyeur. Obviously it had come from the Truelove's room, so he closed the window once more and lay back down in his bed, unaccountably sad.

Morning bought with it sunshine, breakfast on the terrace, a plan for the day and much amusement as Draco watched Ruth chide her husband for feeding the dogs under the table, while Aubrey pretended to look chastened and continued, regardless.

After breakfast, Draco and Aubrey set out for the laboratory, walking in the warmth of a morning summer sun, dogs gamboling alongside them, weaving in and out of their legs and making such a nuisance of themselves that Aubrey banished them to their kennels.

As they walked through rows of herbs, Aubrey told Draco some of what they had been developing.

"Right now, these fields you see to the left of us are being cultivated as a test. We do not use magical additives to help the plants grow, or keep bugs away or keep it perpetually watered and fed with fertilisers. On the right, we've allowed the use of magic with the growth process," Aubrey said, stopping for a moment to look out over his fields.

There was a difference, Draco realised as he looked at both fields. The magically enhanced ones were much bigger, stronger looking plants. He looked confused. "Why would you want to grow things without magic?"

Aubrey started walking again. "We run a range of natural products, as you might be aware. That means completely natural. We found that some magic interferes with the properties and reactions of some herbs and plants, which in turn makes a less effective potion."

"So," Draco said, "these smaller plants on the left are for those potions, even though they look smaller and less healthy?"

Aubrey nodded. "But don't let the fact that they're smaller lead you to think that they're any less healthy, or potent. Magic can make things look good, but it won't actually make a plant any better. We use those," he indicated the magically assisted plants, "for potions where it doesn't matter about magic, like furniture polish and cleaning products and such."

Draco thought it all made sense. "But what about potions where half of the ingredients are animal or insect based? Surely they would have traces of magic also if they're farmed?"

They'd arrived at a long wooden building, and Aubrey held the door open for Draco to enter, and followed him in. "Yes, that's very true and just one of the reasons I run this laboratory."

It was very orderly. Along the right wall Draco could see bunches of herbs hanging, having been dried. Along the back wall there were a number of cauldrons bubbling away over low fires, and tables where there were herbs in various stages of preparation. But along the left wall was what seemed to be a completely sterile environment. An enclosed area with rows of empty phials, pristine benches and neat rows of tools all cleaned and polished.

"One of the reasons?" Draco prompted.

"Yes. Ruth told me that she confided her little secret to you last night," he looked at Draco, who only nodded. "The potion that her mother took for the morning sickness was a common enough one, thousands of witches all around the world took it and only a small percentage suffered any side effects. Her mother was one of them. As I was always good with Herbology at Hogwarts and had planned a career as a potions maker, it seemed to me that the first thing I could do was to find the reasons for the potion reacting to her that way. I set up this and that was the first potion we researched. It is all to do with the way magic reacts to properties in plants and animals and insects, as I was saying before. We did a lot of testing and found that we could eliminate those reactions if we used completely magic free ingredients. That's what the sterile environment is for, but we won't go in there today."

They walked along the rows of tables where in some places knives were chopping herbs and pushing them into big baskets, or mortar and pestles were being used to crush seeds. Aubrey continued; Draco too impressed to make any comment. "Then we found that we could replace and rework some potions to be just as effective without using any animal products at all. In potions where it matters about magic levels, using animals makes it unstable as we can never be sure that the animal hasn't been exposed to magic at least once."

"I never knew…" Draco said, awed. "Never even thought of all that. And you did this, dedicated your life to this because of what happened to Ruth?"

Aubrey looked at him, surprised. "Of course. She is my world and I would do anything for her." He smiled at Draco. "Besides, it has bought me great satisfaction. Not only am I making sure that other witches don't suffer the heartache that my Ruth did, but I am also able to earn an extremely comfortable living."

Draco looked around him. "It must be nice to be so secure," he said softly, almost inaudibly.

Aubrey looked at him. "You don't look as if you want for anything."

"I don't. Money isn't what I meant, anyway," he smiled and walked back outside the building, having seen, and been impressed by, enough.

They took a leisurely walk back to the house, Draco apologising for taking him away from his work. Aubrey, of course, waved him off, saying that he took time off regularly to be with Ruth anyway. Family was always more important than work.

"Does it make you sad that you won't be able to have an heir," Draco asked, tentatively. To aristocratic families, such as the Malfoys, an heir was all important, and producing one the main reason for marrying. He'd reconciled himself to the fact that he would be the last in the Malfoy line; had made the decision that he'd prefer not to give any child the legacy that came with his name.

"Of course it makes me sad that we won't have children of our own. We have a large group of friends that we treat as an extended family. They're important to us and we look upon them as family. They don't need to have our name, nor our blood for that. Because what is a name but set of conditions and rules by which you are supposed to live your life in order to be a part of a family? We prefer to choose our family by what sort of person they are. Strip away someone's name and if they are not a decent person without it, then they will never be a decent person with it."

There was an ache in Draco's chest now, and he regretted asking the question. For so many years he would have scoffed at Aubrey's philosophy on family, but now he wondered if his family had been like that, where would they have all been now. Possibly both of his parents might have been alive, _his mother might have been alive,_ and Draco might not rattle around in the huge Manor alone.

But he could wish for circumstances to be different as much as he wanted, it wasn't going to change a thing. His family hadn't been like Aubrey's. They had died, ripping away what little foundation he had and Draco was on his own.

He was normally quite happy about that.

Today, he wasn't quite so sure.

Inspecting the documentation for the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ was almost an anticlimax after the time Draco had spent with Aubrey and Ruth. It was all in order, as he'd expected, showing the commission Theophilus had made of Master silversmith, Jonas Bellsmythe along with the inclusion of powerful Dark magic spells. The description of the box was included and matched Draco's.

There were parchments documenting what the box was for, how Theophilus and his eventual bride Agneus had used it and, finally, the sale to a dealer in Knockturn Alley. Borgin and Burkes. He should have known.

It was everything he needed to be able to continue the search and he smiled at Aubrey as they sat in the man's study.

"As soon as I can complete the history of the piece, we can arrange for a sale," Draco said.

"Good, good," Aubrey smiled back. "And mind you set a fair price for it," he added.

"I will. I imagine we can settle on a fair price."

Draco sat back in his chair, feeling quite pleased with himself.

The next afternoon, after spending the rest of his time either walking around the estate or sitting and chatting with either or both of the Trueloves, Draco was ready to leave for home.

Ruth pressed a phial into his hands and said with a smile, "Take this, Draco dear, it will help you to sleep. It's one of our new products. Has no side effects," she finished, winking at him.

He stood there, mouth open. How had they known that he barely slept?

Aubrey smiled at him. "And completely natural. We discovered that it's the animal products in the normal potion that give you the lethargy the next day, and so we replaced it with other things."

"Thank you, both so much. For this, for your hospitality. It's been enlightening," Draco smiled.

Draco reflected that he seemed to have been smiling a lot while he was here; the Trueloves seemed to make him want to smile. They were just nice people; unpretentious and warm and suddenly the unexpected voyeurism of the previous night didn't make him feel like an intruder any more, it made him feel included.

"You are more than welcome. Aubrey and I have enjoyed your visit and we hope that one day soon, you will return and visit us again."

"I'd like that," he said and wasn't even surprised when he found that he actually would.

Aubrey shook his hand and Ruth gave him a hug goodbye, that whilst it was not as shattering as Harry's, made him feel warm inside.

He left them promising to notify them when he had more information about the box and issuing an invitation to visit Malfoy Manor when they could spare the time to get away.

.o0o.

Once home again, Draco quickly settled back into his routine. He sent an Owl to Borgin and Burkes requesting further information on the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ , and caught up with any correspondence he had missed while he was away.

That night as he sat in the drawing room sipping a large brandy, with his music playing softly in the background, he wondered how long it would be before Harry arrived on his doorstep again.

Admittedly he had not thought much about Harry while he was away but he would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn't missed his presence, as he had wished him there at least once. Harry was…He sighed. Harry was just Harry and though he unnerved him every time he kissed him goodbye, he was becoming used to him being around somewhere. And that was dangerous; he couldn't afford to become dependant on Harry. Not for anything. He was glad that they seemed to have moved past their childish feud and he was flattered that Harry seemed interested in him but he couldn't count on it lasting.

Still, he would like to see Harry soon.

As the days passed, and Harry didn't show up, Draco went through a number of different emotions. At first he wasn't worried; maybe Harry didn't know he was back. Perhaps he should have let Harry know? Was that too presumptuous of him, assuming that Harry would _want_ to know? After a week, he sent an Owl anyway, told Harry he was back and asked him if he were still interested in letting him see some of the bits and pieces in the Black residence.

There was no reply.

Then after a further week, he began to feel hurt by Harry's silence. Had he imagined Harry's interest? Those gossamer light kisses - that hug? Was it all a joke? Had Blaise put Harry up to it? Draco frowned and a growl rumbled in his chest. That would be so like Blaise - plotting and planning in some misguided attempt to drag him from his quiet existence. Everything fit. Potter being at the café, Blaise being so insistent that Draco have dinner with him to prove that he wasn't lonely…He wondered angrily just what Blaise was going to pay Potter. Why would Blaise do that to him, though, and why would Potter go for it? Unless…

He slammed a few doors as he stormed through the house, needing to go outside and breathe some fresh air. That was it then. Potter had planned everything. Approach Blaise and get him on side to talk him into giving Potter a chance; play with the lonely, reclusive Draco Malfoy's heart and then just dump him – leave him like everyone else did. Draco saw it all now, in clear colour.

And what was Potter getting out of it? The chance to show the world that perfect bloody saviour Potter would always beat a Malfoy – even a reformed Malfoy. He saw Potter laughing that stupidly nice laugh, a triumphant sparkle in his expressive green eyes - having fun at his expense.

Beaten again.

Draco told himself that it was his own fault. He should have expected it and therefore he should not be hurt by it. He should have thicker skin and just laugh it off - yeah, yeah, very funny, now piss off.

Just goes to show, you don't trust anyone, he reminded himself. Not even bloody Gryffindors.

So, Draco went back to his work and forced himself to forget about Harry Potter. Or try to. He'd received an answer from Mr. Borgin Jnr about the box and to whom it had been sold, and he had written to them, asking for details of how long they'd had the box and what they had done with it. Hector Humphries, the collector that Lucius had purchased the box from, had also replied and put Draco in contact with the person he had acquired it from. He was quite pleased; he seemed to be making headway into the history of '_Lega Mio Amore'_.

His daily routine returned to normal as well. He took to drinking tea in the morning though, instead of coffee, as he sat and read the paper with only a passing interest in world events, feeling no more than a spectator's grief reading of a dreadful earthquake in India that involved Wizarding communities as well as Muggle villages.

He'd Owled Blaise a number of times as well, and ascertained that he'd had nothing to do with setting Draco up with Potter. Draco was thankful. At least Blaise wasn't going behind his back.

Things had returned to normal, the whirlwind of Potter's stay in Draco's life was over, the dust had settled.

.o0o.

But as is the way of things in life, the dust never really settles it just covers things up. Eventually, the wind returns and blows the dust away.

.o0o.

There was a letter waiting on his desk for him one morning. Draco only needed to take one look at it to know it was from Potter. He ignored it and set about answering his other mail, smiling with genuine warmth at a letter from Aubrey asking if it were alright for Ruth and himself to pay Draco a visit the next day.

He called Pippy and gave her instructions to prepare his best guest suite and then replied to the letter suggesting that they stay the night. It was the least he could do to return their hospitality. In all his anxiety over the situation with Potter, he'd slept even less than usual, so he'd used their sleeping potion and found it better than the one he normally used. It still left him feeling not quite normal and he still hated to use it but it was better than his usual one and excellent for occasional use.

Unfortunately, he couldn't put off opening Potter's letter forever. He could, of course, throw the damned thing away but his curiosity and, if he were truthful, a tiny sliver of hope that it had all been some mistake, wouldn't let him.

Annoyed, he flicked open the seal and unrolled the parchment.

_Draco,_

_I'll be round tomorrow after work. Can't wait to see you again._

_Harry _

"What the…?" Draco muttered, incensed. What made Potter think that Draco wanted to see him again after all this time with no word? Not bloody likely. Draco picked up a quill and made short work of his reply, pressing so hard with the quill as he was writing that he almost ripped the parchment and broke the nib.

_Potter,_

_Don't bother._

_D. Malfoy _

He was so angry that it almost took the joy out of the thought of seeing Aubrey and Ruth again.

If Potter showed up tomorrow, he'd hex him.

.o0o.

At 3pm the following afternoon, Draco was waiting by the Floo for his guests. He was still angry with Potter presuming that he could just turn up here and all would be forgotten. Three long weeks and he had not replied to Draco's owl, not made any other effort to contact him. Well, the bastard had better not show up and create a scene while the Trueloves were here.

Aubrey stepped through first smiling, and then turned to help Ruth through. Draco aimed a cleaning charm at them both and then moved forward to hug Ruth and shake Aubrey's hand.

"How are you both?" he asked. "It's terrific to see you again."

"We are well, Draco, dear," Ruth responded, her sharp gaze catching the lines around Draco's eyes. He'd not slept at all the previous night. Stupid really, to let Potter affect him like this, but there it was. "You, however, look like you didn't sleep last night. Did you run out of the potion? We've bought along some more for you in any case. Never hurts to have a handy supply."

Draco leaned in and kissed Ruth's cheek, shyly, amazed at how perceptive she was, as Draco thought he usually hid visible signs of tiredness well under careful grooming. "Thank you for caring. No, I have plenty of the potion left."

He turned to include Aubrey in his look. "Welcome to my home. Pippy will take your bags to your room. You can either freshen up now, or we can go into the drawing room and have some afternoon tea."

"A cup of tea would be great, I'm a bit parched," Aubrey said. "Someone," he made eyes at Ruth, "let the dogs in while I was about to drink my tea and the next thing I know, the cup and contents were being slurped by a drooling dog," Aubrey laughed and Ruth covered her mouth, trying not to.

Draco grinned and led them into the drawing room, where Pippy had tea laid out. He poured the tea, added the milk, and then handed out the cups before sitting back. "It really is good to see you both again. I'll show you around the Manor later if you'd like to see it."

"We'd like that, son," Aubrey smiled while Draco stilled at the term of endearment. Then he looked at them both and gave a tiny smile; a vast difference to what he was feeling inside where he was beaming at the burst of warmth in his chest.

Draco sipped his tea and wondered just why he felt so comfortable with these people. The conversation turned to other things and Aubrey brought him up to speed on how his latest experiments were going, while Ruth mostly watched them speaking, adding one or two comments along the way. Draco could feel though that her attention was mostly on him. Damn, he must look worse than he thought.

As they finished, Aubrey raised a question.

"Do you think we could see the _'Lega Mio Amore'_, Draco?"

"Of course, of course," Draco said, standing. "Silly of me to forget that, I'll be just a moment."

He ducked quickly out to the library. As he was picking up the box, Pippy appeared next to him.

"Master Draco, sir, Mister Potter is at the front door, requesting to see you."

Draco scowled. "Send him away, Pippy. I do not want to see him, today or any other day."

"Yes, Master. Pippy will tell Mister Potter to not come back any more," the elf nodded, a sad look in her eyes. She disappeared and Draco sat down heavily in his chair. Damn you Potter, why did you have to ignore my Owl? Again.

Sighing, he picked up the box and went back to the drawing room and placed it on the table for them both to look at.

"It really is beautiful isn't it?" Ruth said.

"Yes, look at the craftsmanship on those roses. Exquisite," Aubrey agreed.

"Well, I should have the rest of the information soon I hope. Then we can settle on a price and it will be all y…"

Draco stopped, as there was a commotion at the door that led to the entrance hall. Raised voices carried quite clearly to where the three of them were sitting.

"What do you mean he won't see me?"

"Mister Potter, no, you cannot come inside! Master Draco has told Pippy…"

"I'm sorry Pippy, but I must see him and I won't leave until I have."

It was Potter's voice and Draco ground his teeth. Did he have to do this now when Draco had guests? Pippy tried valiantly, but Draco could hear Potter's footsteps coming closer.

He gave an apologetic glance to Aubrey and Ruth. "I'm sorry, I think I'll have to deal with this."

"Don't worry, dear, we'll take a walk through your lovely gardens while you sort out your young man," Ruth answered, smiling at him.

Gratefully, Draco led them to the French doors and opened them. "Thank you so much, I appreciate it. I'll make it up to you."

"No need, son," Aubrey said, patting him on the shoulder. "We're quite capable of entertaining ourselves for a while."

"Thank you."

Draco closed the doors after them and turned around just as Potter entered the drawing room. Damn he looked good.

"How dare you enter my house after you have been expressly told that you are not welcome here," Draco said, his voice cold and controlled. "Get out. Now."

"No. Not without some answers."

"You don't deserve answers, Potter." Draco folded his arms and glared at him.

"What happened to you? Why won't you see me? What did I do?"

"Nothing happened to me, I just wised up. I don't want to see you anymore. That's all there is to it." Keep your cool, Draco, he told himself.

"Not good enough, Draco. The last time I saw you I hugged you, and you hugged me back. I thought we were making progress. Now, I come here and you're back to hating me again? It doesn't make sense."

Draco was trying very hard to avoid Potter's confused, pained eyes.

"And how long ago was the last time you saw me?"

"About four weeks ago but…"

"Four weeks ago. Four weeks and not even a word."

"I know but…"

"You think you can just show up here after four weeks of nothing. After not answering my Owl, after…"

"Draco…"

"Shut up Potter, I'm not finished." Draco snarled. He was shaking now and he knew that the pain in his chest was going to bring him undone unless he stopped and took a few deep breaths.

"I want to know, before I have you removed from my house once and for all," Draco continued, his voice steadier now, "did you have fun at my expense? Did you sit around laughing at me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've been…"

"No, you don't get to speak here. In fact I don't want to speak anymore. You can leave now, content in the knowledge that once again, you got the better of Draco bloody Malfoy, you sucked him in and mmnngh…"

Potter had lunged towards him, gripping his shoulders and pressing his lips to Draco's forcefully. As Draco's mouth was half open in speech, Potter's tongue swiped across it, entered, and brushed against his own. For the briefest moment Draco felt like he was flying – the warm press of lips on his and Potter's strong arms now sliding around his waist, pulling him close, was perfect.

No, it wasn't perfect, but it was close.

No, it wasn't even that. Reality crashed around him and he pushed Potter away angrily, leaving himself panting, chest heaving from the kiss and the sudden rush of adrenalin through his body.

"How dare you?" he snarled. "Get out, get out, GET OUT!"

"No, now it's your turn to shut up and listen to me." Potter replied in a tone that Draco forgot to argue with. "I know I haven't been able to contact you for the time I was away but I would have thought that working with the rescue teams outweighed your needs. As soon as I got home yesterday, I Owled you."

"Wait, you said rescue teams?" Draco asked, not understanding what Potter was talking about.

"Yes, the rescue teams."

"What rescue teams?"

"In India. How can you have no idea where I was? The Hospital notified all staff members' families when we were called away suddenly the day you were expected back. I told them specifically to Owl you, as I have no family. Don't tell me they didn't?" Potter looked anguished, now and he hung his head when Draco replied in the negative.

"I didn't receive anything from the hospital. You were there the whole time?"

Potter nodded, earnestly. "I wanted to contact you myself but International Owl is virtually non-existent in India. And we were in an extremely isolated area helping to shift rubble and move earth slides."

Draco felt terrible now; it really had all been a mistake. Harry hadn't been playing with him, setting him up, after all. It all sounded ridiculous in Draco's head now, Harry didn't have it in him to be that cruel. He'd been working for the last month saving the lives of thousands of people he didn't even know - Muggles most of them.

Could he let go of the hurt of the past four weeks, now? He'd barely been able to admit that it had hurt him deeply. But he didn't do relationships and he didn't believe in love and yet, before his trip, he'd thought that maybe he might chance a relationship; had found himself wanting to slip into one. With Harry. If he let go now, would there always be these misunderstandings, would he always be hurt, or expecting to be hurt? Would he be safer not even attempting some sort of relationship?

And yet there'd been times when he was with Aubrey and Ruth and seen them looking at each other, that he'd recognised the look, because he'd caught Harry looking at him like that occasionally and, maybe stupidly, he'd let himself be drawn in. Could he forget about Harry if he ended this – whatever this was – now?

"You didn't forget about me then?" Draco asked in a whisper. He didn't want to ask the question but he had to know and he didn't want to sound like a sappy fool; his voice was just not cooperating.

Harry walked closer and took his hand. "No. You've made an impression on me, Mr. Malfoy. You can be rather unforgettable when you want to be." Harry was smiling, like he was teasing Draco. Oh, how he had misjudged Harry.

Shakily, he raised his free hand to Harry's face, and fleetingly stroked his cheek. "You're rather hard to forget, yourself, Mr. Potter."

"I'm sorry the hospital fucked things up about notifying you. I wouldn't…"

Draco stopped Harry by moving his fingers to cover his mouth. "Shh…it's not your fault."

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?" Draco was busy watching Harry's face, seeing himself reflected in Harry's green eyes, studying the way his fingers moved across Harry's mouth and thrilling at the little puffs of expended air that blew across them when Harry spoke his name.

"If I kiss you, will you push me away again?"

It was like Harry's lips were kissing Draco's fingers. Draco blinked and then smiled.

"If you don't kiss me again I might throw you out."

Almost before the words were past his lips, he was in Harry's arms again and being kissed to within an inch of his life. His hands moved into dark messy hair and his body melted into Harry's as he was being held so close. Draco thought he might always remember this kiss as their first. It was the first time that Draco had actively kissed Harry back and this time it really did feel perfect. Harry's tongue was dancing with his own, tasting and sliding against each other, their lips met and moved and Draco was surprised to hear the sound of a soft moan escape his lips.

Harry smiled at that and held him tighter; pressing closer and letting his hands slide down to cup Draco's arse and, with a gasp, the kiss suddenly turned from the perfect snog into a heated prelude for something more. Their bodies pressed tightly together and Draco could feel something hard digging into his thigh and then it was his turn to smile into the kiss as he rocked his own hips into Harry's, making sure that Harry was completely aware of just how aroused Draco was becoming, too.

When they finally broke for air, both were breathing heavily. "I really missed you," Harry said, peppering Draco's face with small wet kisses. Had it been anyone else, Draco would have reprimanded them for the sloppy mess they were making of his face but it was Harry and it made him feel cherished, instead.

Draco nodded but Harry's words had reminded him that he still had guests. "I have guests, Harry, I have to…"

"Can't you get rid of them?" Harry said nuzzling his cheek, making Draco's insides melt.

"I can't and no, I don't want to, either. It's the Trueloves. Stay and meet them?" Draco breathed, almost helpless with desire.

Reluctantly, they parted - taking deep breaths to compose themselves.

"You look like you've been thoroughly snogged," Harry chuckled.

"As do you," Draco quipped back.

Harry Potter with red kiss-swollen lips and face lightly flushed with arousal was a beautiful sight, Draco admitted to himself. Maybe he could do relationships after all.

They headed out into the rose garden to look for Aubrey and Ruth, and found the couple sitting on the terrace looking out over the formal gardens.

"Ruth, Aubrey, this is Harry Potter," Draco smiled at them, pulling Harry forward. "Harry, this is Ruth and Aubrey Truelove," he said.

Harry bowed over Ruth's hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Harry," Ruth responded, glancing over at Draco, giving him a smile and a slight nod in approval.

Aubrey stood and took Harry's outstretched hand, a pleased smile on his face. "An honour to meet you, Harry," he said.

"Nice to meet you, too, sir. I've used your potions many times. You do good work," Harry replied, respectfully, returning his handshake.

Sitting back down again, Aubrey acknowledged Harry's compliment and Draco was reminded that Harry had the same sleeping problem that he had. "Harry, Aubrey has been experimenting with a new sleeping potion that's much better than the one we've been purchasing."

"Really?" Harry turned to Aubrey. "You'll have to tell me all about it."

The two began a discussion about the new potion, its side effects, or lack of them, what the ingredients were and the benefits of an all natural potion. Draco was interested but it was becoming too technical for him to follow. However, the two of them looked so intrigued by their conversation that he didn't have the heart to change the subject.

Ruth leaned into his side and spoke quietly. "I see the two of you have made up, then."

Draco nodded. "All a misunderstanding," he replied, as Harry's hand reached for his and held it, without breaking his attention to what Aubrey was telling him. Draco gave it a quick squeeze and let it go. Public displays of affection were not something that he was ready for. But he gave Harry a reassuring smile when he looked at him questioningly.

"He's a good man," Ruth continued. "We've had to send a lot of potions to India in the last month, since the earthquake, and we've been getting regular reports from the Authorities over there, so we can make sure we send the right things, and there is a lot of quiet talk about how tireless he has been in getting people to safety and giving help where it was needed. He even sent himself out into the remotest areas in order that the media didn't focus on him instead of the rescue efforts. I don't think they even knew he was there."

"I can imagine that's just how he'd be," Draco agreed, looking at him thoughtfully. "He always did have a hero complex." Though that wasn't entirely true now he knew Harry better. Harry did have a thing about saving people, but Draco had always thought it was because he was after the fame. Now he knew Harry better, that opinion had altered somewhat.

"Don't let him get away," she added, so quietly that Draco wasn't sure he'd heard. He looked at her.

"How do you mean?"

Ruth stood and motioned Draco to follow her. The two of them walked further along the path in the rose garden.

"You'll have to forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but in the few days you stayed with us, we feel that we got to know you fairly well and I can see that you are holding back from your young man."

"How do you mean?" Draco asked, aware that he was repeating himself.

"Harry is like my Aubrey. Neither of them can hide what they are feeling, and his feelings for you are written all over his face. You keep your feelings tightly held to yourself, as I do. We are alike, you and I, I think," Ruth said, studying Draco's face.

He could only agree. "It's very clear to see what Aubrey feels for you, I agree. And you think Harry is like that?"

"Oh, come on, you _know_ he's interested. Even I can see that in your body language."

"That may be but that doesn't mean that I have to bare my soul to him in return. I…I don't…" Draco stopped. He didn't do relationships, he didn't do intimacy, he didn't do love…it was all too close, too damned close and it made him defensive and vulnerable and afraid and…it was all too frighteningly real.

Ruth smiled. "Let me see if I've got this right. You don't trust anyone. I was the same. I couldn't see anyone wanting me for anything other than a brief fling; I was not wife material, as I could not have children so I was never going to be an asset to any man. Don't look at me like that," she smiled, nudging him playfully when he gave her a look that said he doubted that very much. "Back when I was a girl that's how men looked at women. So, because you don't trust anyone, you don't believe in love – not for yourself anyway – because love involves complete trust."

"You're almost right," Draco allowed. "I told you a bit about my family already but…" Draco paused. Confiding in people was difficult, and his father had always taught him to be completely self-sufficient. A Malfoy never allows anyone to see a weakness, never. Malfoys never 'confided' in anyone; they never needed anyone and they never asked for advice. It was the one thing that had enabled him to survive when he lost everything. Finding a way to live through the aftermath of the war and rebuild his life was only possible because of those teachings of his father's. It was the one good thing he ever did for Draco.

But now he'd come to the conclusion that maybe Blaise was right, maybe he did lock himself away from the world more than was good for him. Maybe it was time to let some people in. And Ruth had offered her private feelings and told him of her vulnerability. Maybe it was alright to speak with her.

He started again. "That lack of trust was the only reason I survived losing them along with everyone and everything else. It was how I was brought up; Malfoys were above all that 'needing' people or being exposed by their attachments to people. I don't know how to like him and not leave myself open to having to go through the pain of losing him." Draco gave a silent snort of wry laughter; Blaise had said something about Draco not knowing how to like Harry.

"Do you know what sort of man he is?"

Draco nodded. His opinion of Harry had changed dramatically since school, but that was hardly surprising. Even though Draco had mocked him mercilessly for his attitude ever since he had known him, he always secretly admired the strength of character Harry showed.

"Do you think that he would deliberately hurt you?"

No, despite the last four weeks where Draco had thought just that, he'd really been using it as an excuse to hide his own hurt reaction at not hearing from Harry. "No, I don't think he would."

"Then you have a choice," Ruth said, solemnly. "And it's simple. Do you want to go back to the way your life was before he was in it? If you don't, you know you have to make some changes. He seems determined, if his entrance was any indication as to his character but even the best man won't wait forever."

"I know. I've wondered why he persists with me," Draco said, wondering if he was strong enough to let Harry in.

"Draco, take a look at yourself," Ruth admonished him, though she was smiling. "You are a very handsome young man, as well as intelligent and personable – well worth the hard work."

Draco laughed. "High maintenance, in other words?"

Ruth's answering laugh joined his. "But of course."

"Thank you," Draco turned serious again, and hugged her. "I really can't tell you just how much having you and Aubrey in my life means to me." The Trueloves had been easy to like, easy to talk to and had treated him like he was important to them.

"We liked you from the first moment we saw you, Draco. For some reason it seemed as if you were already a part of our family. Perhaps your mother's box has other mysterious ways of bringing people together," Ruth hugged him back and her words made Draco think.

Ever since he had discovered the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ box and begun to research it, his life had changed, bringing with it two new friends and a possible – no, a definite – lover. It was just a coincidence, Draco was sure but, nevertheless, his outlook had certainly changed in the last couple of months. Instead of just accepting that one day would be much the same as the next and being quite happy about accepting it, Draco had moved to being excited about what the next day would bring. He'd begun to look forward to catching up with Aubrey and Ruth…and Harry.

Harry. Draco sighed. He didn't know if things with Harry would be short term or long term but Ruth was right, Harry was not going to wait forever. And if he got hurt along the way; he now had Ruth and Aubrey, who he was sure would be there for him, to help him through.

Draco's heart tightened in his chest. Was he really going to throw himself into a relationship with Harry? Oh God, he was. He had to, or else…and the trite phrase 'better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all' flashed into his head.

"God," Draco breathed, hugging Ruth, "wish me luck?"

"Of course, dear, though I hardly think you'll need it," Ruth said, pulling back and linking her arm through his. "Now, I think Aubrey and I need a rest before dinner. That will give the two of you some time to talk."

"No, you've only just arrived. I would be a terrible host if I just disappeared on my guests," Draco protested, as they strolled back to Aubrey and Harry.

"Nonsense, Draco. We'll have plenty of time with you but I think young love should never wait." She had a cheeky smile on her face and Draco laughed.

"It's not love, Ruth, but perhaps it's something more than a simple attraction," Draco said.

As they rounded the bend, he saw Harry up ahead, sitting deep in discussion with Aubrey and he watched as the late afternoon sunshine threw golden light over his profile. How could anyone be so unaffectedly beautiful? Harry did it unconsciously. Draco carefully cultivated his looks; meticulously prepared himself and always tried to make the most of what he had been born with. Harry did it artlessly, guilelessly, without even trying.

Then Harry turned and smiled at him and it took Draco's breath away. Beside him, Ruth squeezed his arm. "_You_ may not think so but he does," she whispered. Both men stood as Ruth approached, and she let go of Draco's arm and moved to Aubrey's side, where she whispered something in his ear. He gave a quick glance at Harry and with a knowing look at Draco, stood.

"Ruth tells me, she needs a rest before dinner, Harry, so if the two of you will excuse us, we'll retire to our room. We'll see you both at dinner, perhaps," he chuckled.

"It's been lovely to meet you, Harry," Ruth smiled and extended her hand.

"The pleasure has been all mine," Harry smiled and as he bent over her hand. "I'll look forward to dinner."

Draco called Pippy to show the Trueloves to their room and they left, Ruth giving Draco a final quick hug and whispering, "Have fun and, if you forget the time, I'm sure Pippy will look after us."

Once they had gone, Draco wasn't quite sure about what to say. Harry was though.

"Did they leave to give us time to talk?"

Draco nodded.

"They're really nice people. You must be glad that the box is going back to them, and not some collector who is only after it for its monetary value."

In truth, when Draco had first started researching it, he hadn't cared where the box went but now it seemed fitting that the Trueloves would have it. "As soon as I know the whole history of the box, I'm going to give it to them, not sell it to them. They've given me something worth far more than money." Draco was shocked to realise that it was true. In the few days he'd spent with them and the numerous owls that had traveled back and forth, they'd given him a sense of family, a sense of belonging, just the feeling that he wasn't alone anymore.

And they'd given him the courage to be open to Harry and invite him into his life.

Harry moved to stand alongside him. He took Draco's hand. "That's a lovely thing to do. I can see that there's some sort of connection between you all and that is amazing to see. There's a big softie inside the cold hard Draco Malfoy after all," Harry teased.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "If I am so cold why are you still here? Why have you persisted with me?"

Harry sat on one of the garden benches and pulled at Draco's hand until he sat beside him. "Do you want the truth?" he asked.

"No, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes. "I want you to lie to me. Of course I want the truth."

Harry ran his thumb along the back of Draco's hand, as he looked off towards the gardens and spoke. "That day I saw you in the Apothecary, I will admit, I really just wanted to rile you up. I followed you inside," he gave Draco a quick apologetic glance and then looked away. "But then you blushed when our hands brushed and, I don't know, it made you human. I think it was then I realised that I didn't know you at all – that under all the bluster and the abuse there was probably a bloke just like me. So, I pestered you until you said you'd have dinner with me. I thought that after one dinner I'd be able to tell if I wanted to get to know you more."

"I'm amazed you didn't run a mile, most people usually do," Draco answered.

"Oh, I thought of it," Harry laughed. "I almost didn't follow you home after you disappeared out of the car."

"So, why did you?"

Amazingly, Harry blushed and Draco was fascinated by the pink tint to his cheek that traveled down his neck. It made Draco want to lick it.

"Because having you in my lap and your hand where it was…by the time you sat up, I was as hard as a rock."

Draco untangled his hand from Harry's and ran his fingers through the curls of dark hair that was falling over his ear.

"That's very flattering, so why did you not push it? All the times you've been here and you never pushed things further than a kiss goodbye." Draco was trying to keep things light. It was a delicate discussion and he was not ready for serious life-altering admissions, just yet.

"Are you kidding?" Harry replied, leaning into Draco's fingers and closing his eyes. "I wanted to, but every time I got close or accidentally touched you, you looked like a deer caught in headlights and I didn't want to scare you off."

"I did not, I was just surprised, that's all!" Draco huffed, knowing he had indeed panicked and was scared but admitting that to Harry wasn't something that came easily. But Harry turned to him, cheek filling Draco's palm completely, and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, alright, I was scared. I don't…people don't often touch me. I wasn't used to it," Draco admitted. "And I wasn't sure of your motives, either. I didn't trust you."

Harry nodded. "I know. I spoke to Blaise for a little while before you arrived that day and…"

"Wait, you spoke to Blaise about me?" Draco asked quietly, withdrawing his hand from Harry's cheek. All his doubts were coming back. Had they spoken about how lonely he was, were they full of pity for him in his solitary existence? He pursed his lips and stood, folding his arms across his chest, back turned to Harry.

"Draco, no, please…?" Harry stood and Draco could feel him behind. "I only told him that I was interested and wanted to ask you out. All he said was that if I were truly interested, then I shouldn't rush you because we had a lot of bad history between us." Harry's hand was on his shoulder now. "And I could see for myself that you didn't trust me."

How many times was he going to misjudge Harry? How many times would he doubt his intentions before Harry finally gave Draco up as too much work? He'd have to learn to trust Harry or else he'd lose him.

Suddenly, Draco didn't want to talk any more and he turned in Harry's arms and claimed his mouth hard in a bruising kiss. "I'm not scared anymore," he whispered when he pulled away. It was not entirely truthful; he was actually petrified, but he saw the smile of relief and need on Harry's face and it gave him courage.

He grabbed Harry's hand and led him inside through the drawing room, intent on taking Harry up to his bedroom. "So, what are your motives, Mr. Potter," he asked in an attempt at casualness, giving Harry a smirk as if he knew the answer.

Harry surprised him by stopping and standing still, thinking for a moment, causing Draco to frown - he wasn't having second thoughts was he?

"I probably can't explain them so you will believe me, but I can show you," Harry said, and before it had really registered with Draco what he meant, he'd walked over to the table where the _'Lega Mio Amore'_ was, opened it and pulled out a perfect heart shaped ruby. "And I can tell you that from the very first time I kissed you, I knew you and I were something special and now I can't imagine my life without you in it. I _won't_ imagine a life that doesn't have you in it."

Draco was paralysed with shock; his mouth had dropped open and he stared at the ruby in Harry's hand. No! It couldn't be, could it? He didn't believe in that box - _but Harry must_ - and the ruby was there, and it was only supposed to work if it were real and true love and it's only been two months and - _oh my god_ - what was he to do now?

His eyes moved up to Harry's face, frightened, almost panicked and hopeful all at the same time. As he expelled the breath he'd been holding, a small whimper escaped. Draco vaguely noticed that Harry dropped the stone on the table and then he was in front of him, holding him, kissing him as deeply and possessively as Draco could ever have wished for. He meant it, he really meant it.

Draco's blood was pounding in his ears, and his hands went to Harry's tie. It had to go, as did his shirt and trousers and whatever underwear Harry wore. Draco needed to feel Harry's skin, wanted to know what it felt like to slide against that warmth, to be taken and claimed by his Harry. _His Harry_. Draco whimpered again and Harry kissed fire down his throat as he removed Draco's shirt. Draco was impatient to get their clothes off and he was almost sobbing by the time they were naked, but… _oh…_ how glorious it was to feel that smooth skin against his. How perfectly incredible it was to feel how hard Harry was.

Harry gripped Draco's cheeks with his hands and kissed him. "Draco, Draco, patience. I'm not going anywhere, not ever," Harry breathed into his mouth. Draco swallowed and raised his hands to cover Harry's, nodding and kissing him back.

"I know. It's just been a while and I want you. Rather badly," Draco admitted, pushing Harry back toward the couch, turning at the last minute and dropping down, pulling Harry on top of him.

"You want to do this here?" Harry asked, arranging himself so he was between Draco's legs and that magnificent erection was pressed against him and, in answer, Draco rolled his hips, allowing his own hardness to slide along Harry's. A fierce glow of pride rushed through him as Harry moaned.

"I don't think I could make it to the bedroom, Harry. Please…?" Draco wound his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss, lips bruising, teeth crashing and tongues thrusting. It was wet and messy and Draco was thrilled that Harry was becoming as just as desperate as himself.

Harry's hand slid between them and wrapped around Draco's cock and he moaned and rocked his hips into it, a shiver running through him as he felt Harry's hot breath on his neck. Teeth nipped at his throat, and whimpering softly, Draco's fingers dug into Harry's shoulders.

"We need lube," Harry panted.

Draco groaned, still fighting the rush of pleasure from the hand on his cock. "Don't you know a spell or something?"

Tiny kisses showered his face. "This is not something I do everyday. I've not needed one before."

Draco stilled. "You're not…you haven't…?"

"What? Oh, no," Harry smiled, nipping his jaw and thrusting against him. "I've done this a lot, just not for a while and not so…spontaneously. I never needed one."

In annoyance, Draco's head flopped back onto the couch. "There's something to be said for women, you know – self lubricating and all that."

"Yeah, but women don't have this lovely, hard, hot cock that you do," Harry said, sitting back on his heels, running his hands down the inside of Draco's thighs and up to hold his hips steady while he leant down and licked from the base of Draco's cock to the tip.

"Oh…" Draco moaned, squirming under Harry's hands, trying to lift himself up and get more of that tongue. He didn't want to stop to get lube, but he wanted, _oh how he wanted_ Harry inside him. "Wait…" he said, putting his hand on Harry's head holding it still. "Pippy!" Draco called, and the small elf appeared, eyes widening fractionally at the sight of the two of them naked on the couch.

"Bring me the lubricant that's in the drawer by my bed." He gasped as Harry began to mouth the head of his cock. "And hurry up."

"Yes, Master Draco," the little elf said, and gave what Draco was sure was a little squeal of delight before she disappeared, returning within moments with said tube.

Draco flipped open the lid and squeezed some lube onto his hand, then passed the tube to Harry. He wrapped his hand around his erection, closing his eyes and moaning at the contact and the slight squelch of the lube as he stroked himself.

Soon there was a cold finger at his entrance and he lifted his legs, spreading himself wider. He heard Harry exhale deeply and he opened his eyes to see Harry watching him, eyes dark with need, and to feel his finger slipping inside him.

"My God, you're beautiful like this, Draco," Harry said as his finger moved around inside.

Draco was feeling no discomfort at one finger. "More," he panted as the praise clenched his heart. There was little pain at two fingers and soon, Harry was rapidly moving them in and out, making sure Draco was well relaxed and stretched. All Draco could do was to writhe under the attention, muttering encouragement.

When Draco had taken all he could stand and he was panting and gasping and had to stop stroking himself so he didn't come, he reached down and removed Harry's hand. "Inside me, now! Please?"

Harry chuckled, but it was a deep, throaty, needy sound. "So impatient aren't you? Just as well I can't wait any longer, either."

He slathered his cock in more lube and Draco watched his face as he slowly pushed inside, past the tight ring of muscle that made Draco gasp and wince. He wanted to see Harry's face the very first moment that he entered him; wanted to watch Harry taking him. As he felt his muscles relax and Harry slip further inside, he thought he could come just from the look of complete awe on Harry's face. Not to mention the feeling of being filled; like all his lonely places, and all his aching doubts could shrivel up and die under the onslaught of Harry's possession.

Draco's frantic need slipped away then and he was left with a lump forming in his throat as he watched this beautiful man above him, claim him with every thrust. His legs moved up to wrap around Harry's waist and his dug his heels in, drawing him in further. When Harry shifted a little his next thrust hit Draco's prostate and he moaned and arched up, begging for him to do it again.

The spiral of his need grew as he clung to Harry, hands digging into Harry's shoulders, back arching, toes curling. Harry drove harder and faster and in a moment of complete clarity before he fell shuddering into an orgasm that wrenched all the breath from his body, Draco quite clearly heard Harry growl "Mine!" as he came.

When Draco could breathe again, he lay under Harry's weight, holding on tightly, tiny tremors still rippling through him. And he wasn't shocked at all to find one lone stray tear had trickled down the side of his face.

"I mean it," came Harry's soft but determined voice from the region of Draco's collarbone. He shifted and Harry pulled gently out of him to flop beside him on the couch.

"I know," Draco replied quietly and tucking himself into Harry's side, resting his head on Harry's chest. "Good."

He thought perhaps he should be reflective and actually think about what all this meant, or the fact that there were going to be some awful stains on the couch, but he was too satiated and happy and content just lying here in Harry's arms to even bother about anything. He just wanted to savour the euphoria.

Turning his head to look at Harry to say thank you or something equally profound, he saw Harry was dozing. He smiled at that and spent a few moments looking at the face of the man that loved him; really truly loved him. He looked so peaceful and there was a curve to his lip that made Draco want to smooth over. He could get used to waking up to that face every morning.

His stomach lurched at that thought; some of the old fears, the uncertainty surfacing again. He sighed and rested his head back on Harry's chest. He had no idea how long this would last – according to the box it should be forever, but Draco knew better than to trust in something like that. However long it did last for, though, Draco was going to take it and live it – fears, doubts, uncertainty and all.

His eyes caught the ruby heart on the table and the late afternoon light glinted off it, making it look alive. "Lega Mio Amore," Draco whispered, and looked back at Harry's face. "Tie my heart gently, Harry."

FIN.


End file.
